The Final Night
by PrettyPoppy
Summary: Complete! On the eve of the final battle with The First, Angel and the gang come to Sunnydale to join the fight. Faced with her own mortality, Buffy must decide how she wants to spend what might be her final night on earth. S/B, A/C
1. Enter the Cavalry

Title: The Final Night

Author: PrettyPoppy

Summary: On the eve of the final battle with The First, Angel and the gang come to Sunnydale to join the fight. Faced with her own mortality, Buffy must decide how she wants to spend what might be her final night on earth. S/B, with a little A/C thrown in for good measure.

Notes: This is really just a cathartic exercise for me. How I'd like to see things happen in the final episode. Spoilers through Season 7. 

Feedback: Yes, please. PrettyPoppy@worldnet.att.net

Distribution: If you want it, just let me know.

Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Buffy, Spike, or any of the other characters in this story. Everything belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, and whoever else has a legal right to it.

***

Chapter One: Enter the Cavalry

They were on the brink. The Apocalypse was coming and it looked like there was no way out.

Buffy paced nervously along the carpet in her bedroom, occasionally stealing furtive glances out the window. She was waiting. The world was coming to an end, and she was spending the early morning hours pacing in front of her window, waiting to catch a glimpse of the cavalry, coming over the horizon. 

The cavalry. A fancy name for Angel, Cordelia, and their whole LA gang. It wasn't what Buffy wanted, dragging all of them into it, but it had happened. It was necessary. They were about to face the fight of their lives, and Buffy and the Potentials needed all the help they could get.

Faith had come back weeks earlier, and had ultimately been the one to convince Buffy to call in the reinforcements. Not a pleasant or easy task, but she had had no choice.

Angel and the gang had left LA sometime after midnight. Buffy knew they would arrive before dawn. They had to. It was the way these things worked. 

Now, she waited. 

There had been some casualties over the passed weeks. Three more Potentials had lost their lives fighting the good fight. What was left of her troops were now huddled downstairs on the living room floor, sleeping.

In spite of Buffy's orders to the contrary, Faith had gone out to, as she put it, "Kick a little demon ass." After spending so long locked up in a prison cell, she couldn't stand being sequestered any longer. Mortal danger never phased Faith. Sometimes it didn't seem to matter to her whether she died today, or ten years down the road. Buffy knew that it was really just an act, a defense mechanism. Faith couldn't deal with the idea that the world was going to end, so she had gone out to release some of her fears with her fists. Buffy didn't mind, as long as she came back in one piece. Hopefully she would. After all, she hadn't gone out alone.

Spike had gone with Faith. Much to Buffy's chagrin. But what could she do? She had forced him to be strong again, to reclaim his desire for bloodlust. What right did she have to keep him tied to the house, babysitting a bunch of teenage girls? He needed to be out fighting. She couldn't ask him to stay.

Buffy stopped her pacing and walked over to the window, to stare out into the street. 

Spike. 

God, what was she going to do about Spike? 

She had told herself so many times that it was over. That she didn't feel anything for him but gratitude and friendship. And yet . . . tonight, when he had chosen to go with Faith, a part of Buffy had ripped in half. She wanted him to stay with her, or at least, to be the one going out with him, fighting by his side. There was nothing romantic between him and Faith, but the potential was there, and Buffy couldn't deny her jealousy. She wanted to be with him, wanted things to be like they had been before - before The First came into their lives, before everyday was possibly the beginning of the Apocalypse. Okay, so things had never been all daffodils and teddy bears for them, but if The First hadn't have come along, they might have had a chance - if not for romance, then at least a chance to cultivate their friendship. Something. Now they had nothing. The world was going to end in two days, if they couldn't come up with a brilliant plan quick. And even if they did, doubtless someone would die. Probably more than one someone. What if it was Spike? What if it was Dawn? Or Willow? Or Xander? Buffy tried to suppress a shuddering sob as she imagined all of her friends dying off, one by one. What if she survived and they didn't? What if she didn't and they did? It was just too much to bear. 

Just as she was about to let tears overtake her, Buffy heard the distinct sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. She lifted her bowed head and stared out into the night. It was Angel. Oh God!

Buffy pushed herself away from the window and flew to the door. She made her way out into the hallway, and tried to hurry down the stairs as quietly as possible. When she got to the front door, she could hear the sound of voices coming from the other side.

"So this is where the Slayer lives," she heard an unfamiliar voice comment. "Not bad, although a little "Leave it to Beaver," if you ask me."

"Welcome to Sunnydale, Lorne," a _very_ familiar voice chimed in. "Manicured lawns, white picket fences, the whole nine yards. It's very deceptive. Kind of gives new meaning to the word "irony." I'm just glad I got out when I did." 

"Yeah, so was I," Buffy said as she opened the door and came face to face with Cordelia.

"Well, it's nice to see you too Buffy."

Angel instantly stepped forward and put himself between them. "Hello Buffy."

Buffy caught her breath as she drew back and looked up at him, their eyes locking in mutual accord. "Angel." The word was barely a whisper.

They stood there for a long moment, neither one moving, or speaking. Finally, Cordelia pushed her way forward and grabbed Angel by the arm. "Okay, we get it. Loads of sexual tension, right? Can we just get inside before whatever Big Bad is out there wanting us dead, starts picking us off one by one on your front porch?"

"Uh, yeah." Buffy shook herself and tried to come back to reality. "Come on in." She stepped inside and motioned for them to follow. Still, she couldn't take her eyes off of Angel.

The commotion on the front steps had woken all of the would-be Slayers. Willow and Kennedy - who had been up working on some protection spells - had come downstairs as well. Buffy suddenly found herself in the overcrowded living room, trying to bring order to chaos, and survive all the awkward introductions she could. 

"Okay, everyone," she said, to the stuffy room of loud, curious girls. "This is Angel. You already know about him. This is Cordy. Cordelia," she said, motioning to the former cheerleader. "Um," Buffy looked over her shoulder, straining to see who was standing behind her in the entryway, crowded out of the filled-to-capacity living room. "This is Wesley. He's a former watcher."

"A former watcher?" Rhona, the spunky, African-American Slayer-in-training asked.

"Yes former. There is life after Watching, you know?"

"Shouldn't he, like, come out of retirement, now that all our Watcher's are dead?" Kennedy interposed.

Buffy plastered an exasperated smile to her face. "Well, why don't you ask him, once we've gotten all the introductions out of the way."

"Fine. I just asked."

Buffy turned back toward what was left of Angel's group. "I'm afraid I've never met the rest of the gang. Angel." She turned the floor over to him.

"Oh, right. Okay." He turned a little and made room for Fred to step forward. "This is Fred, that's Gunn," he pointed over his shoulder, "and that's Lorne."

Lorne finally stepped into the girls' view and a collective gasp swirled through the room. "Well, thanks. It's really nice to have my uniqueness appreciated." He smiled nervously at the girls.

"Okay, I think that's it," Angel said. 

"Not quite," Connor said as he stepped into the house, carrying more of their luggage.

"Oh right, and Connor."

Connor stepped into view and a few of the hormonal, teenage girls giggled. 

Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Is that it?"

Angel surveyed the group again. "Yeah, that's it."

"Okay, well," Buffy turned toward the new arrivals, "let's see how quickly I can do this." Buffy ran through the names of all the Potentials, introducing each one in turn. She also had to introduce the Scooby gang - and Andrew - to the strangers Angel had brought. By the time all the introductions were finished, it was half past four in the morning.

"Well, I think we can all turn in now. Thing's are kind of tight here, but Will's set up places for everyone, so she can show you where . . . you'll . . . be sleeping." The sound of the back door opening caught Buffy's attention, momentarily distracting her. She could hear voices in the kitchen.

"God that felt good! B doesn't know what she's missing. Always was more the mother hen type. Stay at home and protect the chickadees. Hold down the fort."

"Yeah, well, believe me, she's not always quite the goody-goody you give her credit for. I could tell you a thing or two about . . ." Spike's voice trailed off as they stepped into the living room and he came face to face with a very pissed off Buffy.

She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. "Where have you been?" 

Spike raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Out. You knew we were . . ." His gaze momentarily flickered from Buffy, and he caught a glimpse of Angel standing behind her.

"What the hell is he doing here?" The growl in Angel's voice was unmistakable.

"It's a long story," Buffy said, refusing to take her eyes off Spike.

Spike looked back to Buffy and smirked. "Yeah, that it is."

"Buffy." Angel grabbed her arm defensively and pulled her a little closer to him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." She finally turned to look at Angel. "He's useful. That's all."

"Yeah right, that's all." Anya finally spoke up. "Let me tell you, sometimes he's a lot more than just useful."

"Anya." Xander grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him in warning.

"I just meant that he can be really useful for sex sometimes, that's all," she whispered defensively. 

"Yeah," Xander said. "I think we all got that." 

Angel's grip tightened on Buffy's arm.

Spike just shrugged off the whole exchange. "I'm going to bed," he said, as he crossed out of the room and headed toward the basement. "It's been a long night, and at least some of us, have actually been out fighting. Goodnight kiddies," he said before making his exit. 

"I think I'll turn in too," Faith added, as she made for the stairs. Halfway up she turned around. "Goodnight B. Sweet dreams." Then she too left the Slayer slumber party.

"Buffy," Angel growled softly in her ear. 

She pulled away from him, breaking the contact and turned to address the room. "It's late. We don't have much time. Everyone goes to sleep, now. We'll devise a plan in the morning. And that's an end to it. Goodnight."

Buffy caught a glance back at Angel and then headed up the stairs. Much to her dismay, he followed her.

When she got inside her bedroom door she turned around. "Angel, not now. Not tonight. I can't do this."

"Buffy, what is going on?"

"It's a very, very long story, okay? The world is probably going to end in two days, can we please discuss this in the morning? I'm not going to be of any use to anyone if I don't get some sleep."

Buffy tried to close the door on him, but he wouldn't let her. "Buffy," he said, leaning his hand against the open door, "there's something I need to tell you."

"Does it in anyway involve the Apocalypse?"

"Well, no, not really, but . . ."

"Then goodnight." She used her Slayer strength to dislodge his arm and force the door closed. She locked it behind her.

"Buffy, there's something I need to tell you."

"Not tonight. Tomorrow. I think I've had about all I can take for one night."


	2. Angel and Spike

Chapter Two: Angel and Spike

Maybe Buffy could sleep, but Angel couldn't. After leaving her room, he went back downstairs and pulled up a chair next to Willow in the kitchen. 

She took a quick glance up at him and then went back to working on the potion in front of her. "I'm not really sure this stuff is gonna work. But I have to be ready, just in case."

"Didn't Buffy command everyone to bed?" he asked, as he pulled one of her open books toward him and started flipping though the pages.

"Yes," she said, grabbing the book and giving him a playfully censorious look, "but there's research to do. And I work better when the kitchen isn't crowded to the ceiling with curious Slayers-in-training."

"They're really getting to everyone, huh?"

"No." After she said it, Willow looked over her shoulder toward the living room to see if anyone was listening. When she saw it was safe, she turned back to Angel and nodded her head, silently mouthing the word, "Yes."

"How's Buffy coping? Really?"

"Really?" Willow started pounding some herbs with a pestle and mortar. "She's dealing. It's tough sometimes, but she's doing the best she can."

"And Spike?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Spike? Spike's coping, I guess."

"That's not what I meant. What is he doing here?"

Willow inhaled a sharp breath and concentrated on the task in front of her. "He helps us, from time to time. Well, actually, these days, he helps us all the time," she corrected.

"And you trust him?" Angel could feel the tension building in his body. He was already tightly wound. Willow was somehow just making it worse.

"Buffy does."

And he snapped. "What do you mean, Buffy trusts him? What about the rest of you?"

"Well," she finally lifted her eyes, "he's kind of, sort of . . . changed? We really don't have much choice but to trust him now. For the longest time he was the only warrior we had - other than Buffy, of course."

Angel shook his head in disbelief. "What do you mean, he's changed? Willow, he's a vampire. An evil, soulless, bloodsucking, creature of the night."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And you're what? Not a bloodsucking, creature of the night?"

"I have a soul."

"So does Spike." 

Angel stared at Willow for a long, hard moment. He watched in horror as her face turned ashen and she tore her eyes away from him. Obviously, she had just given away some deeply kept secret. 

"What did you just say?" he asked, when he finally regained the ability to speak.

"Nothing." She wouldn't look at him.

"You said that Spike has a soul." Angel got up from the table and moved closer to her. "Is it true? Willow, is it true?"

She refused to answer.

"Willow?"

"Yeah, it's true," a familiar voice interrupted from behind him.

Angel swung around to see Spike standing by the basement door. "Son-of-a-bitch," Angel cursed under his breath. 

"Now that's no way to talk about a bloke's mother. I'd never say anything like that about your dear, old mum."

Angel growled and threw himself at Spike, grabbing the other vampire by the collar and slamming him up against the wall.

"Touchy I see." Spike smirked at him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend."

"Spike!" Willow's voice snapped at him from across the room. She stepped away from the table and came up to stand beside the two vampires. "Do you want Buffy to hear? Do you want her to come downstairs and kick both your sorry, vampire asses?"

Neither one moved. They just continued to stand there, staring each other down. 

"Angel." Willow tried to reason with him. 

Finally, he tore his gaze from his errant grandchilde and looked down at her. As he did, he realized that somewhere, caught up in the moment, he had vamped out. He let his gameface slip and looked apologetically at Willow. "Sorry." He let go of Spike and took a step back. 

"There, that's better," Spike said, smoothing down his wrinkled shirt. "That's no way to treat the man of the house, is it?"

Angel went to make another move at Spike, but Willow stopped him. 

Spike just laughed. "Has anyone ever thought about getting a leash for you? You know, a nice leather collar attached to a chain?"

"Spike," Willow warned.

"Oh, right, right. Don't want to disturb the Slayer. I forgot." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Angel stared at him and fumed. "A soul?" Angel growled through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. Funny thing about that. Didn't really see it coming, did you? You're not really all that unique anymore, are you?"

Angel tensed. He could feel his blood vessels getting ready to burst. "How?"

"Did it to myself. Stupid git that I am," he mumbled under his breath. "Made a deal with a demon, got my soul back, and oh, yeah, the thing is," he leaned in close, "mine doesn't come with a curse."

"Why the hell should I care?" Angel snapped.

"I don't know." Spike leaned back toward the wall. "Just thought you'd want to know."

"Not that I'm not all for touching family reunions," Willow cut in, "but I think maybe it's time you went to your respective corners and called it a night. The world is ending. If you survive the Apocalypse, then you can kill each other."

Angel tore his eyes away from Spike and looked at Willow. "You're right. Where am I sleeping anyway?"

"Upstairs, in Dawn's room, with Giles and Wesley."

Spike didn't even pretend to suppress his laugh.

Angel shot him a murderous look. "What are you laughing at, Basement Boy?"

"Hey, at least I get my own bed. I'd take the basement any day over sharing a room with two poncey Watchers. You know," he said to himself, "I thought I was going to have trouble sleeping tonight, but it looks like I'll be just fine." He smiled and turned toward the basement. "Night Red."

"Goodnight Spike," she said lamely, as they watched him shut the door behind him. She turned to Angel. "Shall we?" she asked, extending her arm toward the hallway. 

"Oh, yes," Angel said, as he continued to stare at the closed door. "Let's."


	3. Good Moring, Sunnydale!

Chapter Three: Good Morning, Sunnydale!

The next morning dawned bright and early at 1630 Revello Drive. By seven a.m. the kitchen was bustling with what Spike had once called, "the pitter-patter of clomping teenage girlie feet." Buffy found she was spending more time playing referee than making tactical decisions. Finally, she resigned herself to having a bowl of cereal as she listened to the excited buzz of the Slayerettes.

"Well, I think he's just adorable. Absolutely the dreamiest thing I've ever seen."

__

Dreamy? Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I don't know," another one intoned, "he's not really my type. A little skinny for my tastes. But his dad is kind of yummy."

"Who . . . are we talking about?" Buffy asked, as she looked up from her cereal.

"Oh. Connor," Amanda answered. "I think he's kind of cute."

"You would," Kennedy said snidely.

"Wait, wait," Buffy interrupted. "When, exactly have you seen his dad?"

The entire group looked at her like she had six heads.

"What? Do I have something in my teeth? A cornflake or something?"

"You don't know?" Rhona asked.

"Know what?" Dawn came breezing into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl from the closet. "What don't I know?"

"Not you. Buffy." Kennedy turned to address Buffy again. "You didn't know that Connor is Angel's son? How could you not know that? You're the Slayer. Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

Buffy put down her spoon and started to laugh. "Okay girls," she said, getting up from the table, "are we going to have to have a lesson in vampire biology? Vampire's cannot father children. It's impossible."

"Yeah," Dawn said as she poured herself some Raisin Bran. "Please, if it wasn't, Buffy would have been popping out vampire babies a long time ago."

"Dawn!" Buffy scolded, horrified.

"Oh please. It's not like we're not all gonna die tomorrow. What are you going to do? Ground me?"

"That isn't funny."

"It's not supposed to be."

"Look," Kennedy interrupted, "you really didn't know?"

Buffy turned her attention away from Dawn. "It isn't possible. I don't know why . . . whoever . . . told you that Angel was Connor's father. But it's not true."

"Yes it is."

Buffy spun on her heals to see Connor entering the kitchen. She stared at him blankly. "What?"

"It's true. Angel is my father. Darla was my mother."

Buffy suddenly felt weak. 

Dawn ran forward and helped her sister down onto one of the stools. 

"I . . . I don't believe this," Buffy said, the words barely a whisper.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't too easy for me to take at first either. Who want's to know that both their parents were bloodsucking fiends?"

Buffy looked up at him. "Are you . . .?

"A vampire? No. I've got some of their strength, the supersensitive hearing, all that. But no, I'm not a vampire. Thank God, right?"

"Buffy, are you okay?" Dawn asked.

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine. At least, I think I'm fine." Buffy pushed herself up from the chair. "There's work to be done. I'll be in the dining room if anyone needs me. Dawn, when the others come down, send them into see me, okay?"

"Sure Buff. Whatever you say."

"Oh, and find Willow. I need talk to her. It's urgent."

"Can do." Dawn headed upstairs, and Buffy made her way out of the kitchen.

Good God, Connor was Angel's son?! It didn't make sense. But then again, what the hell ever did? 

Buffy entered the dining room and sat down to wait for Willow. She needed a shoulder to cry on. At least Willow would understand.


	4. Blood and Sympathy

Chapter Four: Blood and Sympathy

About an hour later, the last of the LA gang made their appearance. Buffy was still reeling from the news about Angel, but she tried her best not to show the inner turmoil that was tearing her apart inside. Why did things always go from bad to worse? Was Connor the thing Angel had wanted to tell her about the night before?

Of course Angel was entitled to his own life. That wasn't the point. It was just painful finding out that he had produced a child with Darla, of all people. Love and a family were the two things that Angel could never give her. Why had he been able to give them to Darla? It just didn't seem fair. 

Angel tried to corner Buffy as everyone made their way into the dining room. He said he wanted to talk. But Buffy begged off, telling him that there was too much work to do, that there would be time for talking later. She didn't want to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with Angel. There was too much ground to cover and it was too painful. It was so much easier to wrap herself up in her work, than to face what was really going on inside of her. 

Buffy had her own secrets to reveal. Secrets she would much rather keep to herself if possible. She knew that Angel knew about Spike's soul. Willow had told her. But so far, that was all he knew. Buffy was secretly hoping that Angel wouldn't find out about her and Spike. Of course, in a house just brimming with people who knew, that was a distinct impossibility, but she was hoping nonetheless. 

It didn't take long for everyone to get settled and start working. Within a quarter of an hour, they were well into preparing their strategy for the coming battle.

The showdown would be the following day. There was no avoiding it. The First was in control, and it was naming the time and the place. They were running out of time. Every last moment was suddenly invaluably precious.

Within hours, the dining room looked more like a war room, than part of a suburban sanctuary. There were tactical diagrams spread out on the walls, and mounds of books covering every surface. Everyone needed to know their place and what was expected of them, if they were going to have any chance of coming out of this alive. 

Despite the obvious tensions and frustrations in both camps, everyone did their best to pull together. Buffy, Angel, Giles, and Wesley were doing most of the planning. At least leadership wasn't in short supply. Willow was trying to find ways to cover their weaknesses with magic, but being the only witch, she was having a difficult time with it. Even with Giles and Anya's assistance, she wasn't sure how much good she could do them in the end.

Faith kept drifting in and out, restlessly. If something wasn't to her liking - some tactic not bold or dangerous enough - she never hesitated to let everyone know. It was starting to get on Buffy's nerves, but there was little she could do about it.

In all the chaos, Spike had taken up a place in the back of the room. He spent hours leaning up against the wall watching them, not saying a single word. Every so often Angel would throw him a suspicious glance, but there was no other contact between them. 

Around six o'clock, Buffy forced all non-essential personnel to break for dinner. Spike grabbed a mug of warm blood and went outside, to sit on the steps of the back porch. Not long after, Cordelia joined him.

"It's not easy, is it?" she asked, as she stood behind him, staring out into the night, a cup of tea warming her hands.

"What's that?"

"Watching them together. It's not easy for me either."

Spike turned slightly to look up at her, raising a scarred eyebrow in question. "You and the poof? I mean . . . Angel?"

"Yeah." She sighed and lowered herself to sit next to him. "It's complicated. Things seemed to be going well for a while, and then . . . you know . . . things happen."

"Yeah. Tell me about it." He turned back to his mug and took a long swig. "So, I take it _you've _never broken his happiness clause."

"What? Ewww gross Spike. As if that's really any of your business."

"Well," he shrugged, "with the world ending tomorrow, I figured it couldn't hurt to ask. Besides, it's kind of obvious, him being all soul-having."

"You would think, wouldn't you?" She lowered her gaze and started swirling the liquid in her cup.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, just that the curse . . .? It's gone."

"What?" Spike nearly dropped his mug. "What do you mean, it's gone?"

"I mean, it's gone. It's been removed. It's a very long story, but basically, Angel is free to love whomever he wants. To be as happy as he wants."

"Bloody hell!" Spike cursed under his breath.

"Exactly."

He looked up at her. "So you think he's come here to . . .? Of course he has."

"We don't know that."

"How serious were things between you two?" 

"Pretty serious."

"What do you think are the chances that he would turn to Buffy? Now of all times?"

"Pretty good. He's been through a lot. We've been through a lot. All of us. There was this demon, this demon that took my form. Angel thought it was me. And it did some unspeakable, unforgivable things. He knows I'm not responsible, but a part of him can't seem to forget what he's seen. I know that - given time - he'd heal. We'd get passed everything. But time is something we don't have right now. Angel has been through hell, and he doesn't trust me anymore. He can't help it. Buffy, he trusts. Buffy is safe, and comfortable, and like a dream to him. I know he's still drawn to her. I know that if circumstances were different - if life and death weren't on the line, if he had time to deal with everything he's been through - we wouldn't even be having this conversation. But we are. If we die tomorrow, it's going to be Buffy that he's thinking about, not me." A tremulous sob escaped her throat. She stood up and retraced her steps back up the porch. "I'm sorry Spike. Truly I am. But you're not the only one suffering. I'm going through it too. I know how it feels. I just wanted you to know that." 

Cordelia turned and went back into the house, leaving Spike alone on the porch. 

A loud cracking sound broke the calm silence, as the mug in Spike's hand shattered into a million pieces.


	5. Consolation

Chapter Five: Consolation

Spike wanted to run. To steal off into the night and leave the little army. Turn deserter. Go AWOL. Wouldn't Buffy just love that? Then again, with Angel around, Spike wondered if she would even notice.

Flinging his fourth cigarette in the past twenty minutes to the ground, Spike got up and went back into the house. He couldn't desert her. He knew it. No matter what she might be planning to do with Angel.

Spike entered the kitchen and was instantly assaulted by the never-ending chaos that was now a permanent fixture at 1630 Revello Drive.

"No, you don't seem to understand," Giles said as he removed his glasses and started cleaning them in irritation. "That's not at all the kind of spell we need."

"Well," that little girl Fred said, leaning up against the counter, a huge volume of text cradled in her arms, "maybe Wesley would have some idea where to find the right one. After all, he knows a lot more about this stuff than I do. I was just trying to help."

"Oh, yes." Giles rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Let's ask Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, why don't we? After all, he always was a much better Watcher than I."

Just then, Andrew pushed into the room, and rushed over to the oven. "Why didn't anyone tell me my cookies were burning? Hello, couldn't you guys smell them? Spike, you have a supersensitive sense of smell, why didn't you do something?"

Spike gritted his teeth and sent a black look at Andrew, but the nerd didn't even notice.

Turning toward the basement, Spike tried his best to ignore everyone and everything. He had just wanted to slip by unnoticed. But of course, that was impossible, in this house.

Succeeding in reaching the door without further incident, he placed his hand on the knob and got ready to open it, then he heard her voice.

Buffy.

The din of the overcrowded house had swirled into a mass of unrecognizable sound, but Buffy's voice he could hear, as clear as day. "Angel's right. We can't concentrate too much of our energies in one area. Wesley, why don't you see how Fred and Giles are doing? Angel and I can handle this."

She was in the dining room. And even from across the house, he could hear every last word that she was saying. Damn supersensitive vampire hearing! Spike wanted to puncture his own eardrums so he wouldn't have to listen. _Oh yes, Wesley, why don't you go find Fred, so you can leave Angel and me all alone?_

Spike let out a low growl as he pushed open the basement door and slipped inside. He needed to get away, as far away as possible. Unfortunately, right now, the closest thing to far away was the basement.

Spike bounded down the stairs in an angry stride. He was getting restless. Anxious. Damn that bloody Cordelia! Why did she have to let him in on the little secret? Why couldn't she have kept the soddin' "good" news to herself? She wanted to offer _him_ sympathy? Ha! She just wanted to see that someone else was suffering right along with her. 

So there was no curse? Funny how having a curse removed could damn them all.

"You shouldn't run down the stairs like that. You never know, you might trip, and fall on a stray piece of wood or something."

Spike swung around to see Faith sitting on top of the washing machine, her head resting back against the wall, the neck of a liquor bottle gripped in her right hand. 

"Bloody hell. Just what I need," he grumbled to himself.

"Don't tell me. Couldn't take the long, soul stirring speeches anymore? B's holier-than-thou attitude finally getting to you?" Faith asked, as she finally tilted her head forward to look at him.

"Somethin' like that."

"Never could stand it myself. The attitude or the speeches." She jumped down from the washer and moved, catlike, across the floor. "So, you up for a little fun?" she asked, stopping a few feet away.

"Excuse me?"

"Fun?" She held up the bottle. "You do remember fun, right? Don't tell me she's sucked all the life out of you already? Thought you still had a little more time until she totally broke you, the way she did Angel."

Spike snickered at the reminder and turned away, taking a few cagey steps about the room. He was feeling more and more trapped by the second.

"See that's touched a nerve," Faith said, as she leaned, nonchalantly, up against the punching bag in the middle of the floor. "You think they're gonna do it?"

Spike instantly swung around to glare at her, his nerves already at the breaking point. "What . . . she . . . does, is of no concern to me," he said coldly. "I'm just a mercenary in this little army. Doesn't matter to me who General Buffy's shaggin'."

"Right." Faith shook her head. "You sure you don't want this?" she asked, raising the bottle again. 

Spike narrowed his eyes at her in warning.

"Fine." She pulled the bottle back and took a swig herself. "I take it you've heard about the whole curse-lifting thing? So, who broke the news? Angel? I could just see that." She smiled to herself. "Does he even know about you and Buffy?"

"There is no me and Buffy," he growled. "Never was."

"Is that what you tell yourself? Does that make you feel better?"

"Don't you have someplace you should be?"

"Nope." She pushed herself away from the bag. "Can't really hang with the snotty-nosed Potentials, and B'd rather not have me around. So," she said softly, moving in a little closer, "I'm all yours."

"Yeah." Spike laughed. "Just what I need."

"Well, excuse me. You could do a lot worse."

"And believe me, I have. Sorry luv," he said solemnly, "not interested."

"Okay, I get it," she said, stepping back. "Hey, you're not the only guy in this house, right? Of course, I've got my pick. Angel's panting after B _and_ Cordy. Gunn and Wes are all hot over Fred. Wes has been dreaming about doing that little sex kitten for a while. Now she's playing both of them. Doesn't leave much for the rest of us, does it?"

"So, what?" Spike lifted a cynical brow. "I'm the consolation prize?"

"Not quite." She took several purposeful steps closer. "I've always been curios . . . Remember that time at The Bronze?"

"Come again?"

"You, me . . . oh wait, that wasn't me. Well, not exactly."

Spike stared at her quizzically, completely lost.

"Something Buffy said about warm champagne," she said in a low voice.

Spike narrowed his eyes and searched her face curiously. "How'd you know about that?"

"I was there." She closed the space between them, her breasts just barely brushing his chest. "Would you like to walk down memory lane?"

He shook his head in pure denial. "No. That was Buffy."

"No," she smiled wickedly, "it wasn't. Didn't B ever tell you about the time we switched bodies? I know she wasn't really happy with how the whole Riley thing worked out. But hey, it wasn't his fault. What did he know?"

Spike was seriously disgusted. What was wrong with her? He normally enjoyed going out with Faith; working over the demons, getting out his aggressions. But tonight she was really pushing it. He had once called Buffy a "poor little lost girl." Faith was worse. He knew she was probably terrified. Probably just felt alone and was trying to find comfort from someone. But he couldn't comfort her. He couldn't be the one

Spike pulled away. "Are you always like this?"

"Sometimes I'm worse. So, tell me," she said conspiratorially, "did B ever make good on my promises?"

Spike growled.

"I guess I'll take that as a yes. God, you know, I didn't think she had it in her. But you never can tell. They do say it's always the quiet ones. So," she looked him up and down appreciatively, "what do you say? You? Me? For real this time? Think about it Spike. It doesn't quite seem fair, does it? I want you. You want Buffy. Buffy wants Angel. Viscous cycle really. Can't see that ending well."

"Tomorrow it'll all be over."

"Yeah. You're probably right. So?"

"No."

"Fine," she said, exasperated. "But, seeing as I'm not going to be having any real fun, on what is probably my last night on earth, then at least appease another curiosity. Who told you about the whole curse deal?"

"The soddin' Prom Queen. That's who."

"Cordy?" Faith seemed genuinely surprised. "No way! What the hell was she hoping to prove by doing that? What did she want, someone to sympathize with her?"

"Apparently."

"Figures. Stuck-up bitch."

Spike turned and looked at Faith. Why the bleedin' hell was everyone so keen on conversing with him tonight? He really just wanted to be left alone, to wallow in his own torment. 

He really wanted to get rid of Faith. 

"Yeah, well, doesn't matter," he said. "Makes no difference."

"Like hell." Faith put the bottle down on a nearby table and slowly started circling around Spike. "It makes a big difference. I'll bet that - even all things considered - there was still a part of you that was hoping you'd be spending tonight with her. That she'd need the comfort of someone's big, strong arms, and she'd choose you, because there was no competition. But now he's here, and he's free. And that changes everything." She stopped in front of him and stared him down. "You want her. But guess what? News flash, Big Bad. You can't have her."

"Don't you think I know that?" 

"Then take what consolation you can." She moved closer, coming to a stop mere inches from his body.

Spike stared down at her and looked curiously into her deep, rich eyes. She was right. He couldn't have Buffy. But did he really want to spend the last night of his life having meaningless sex with a scared little girl who was too insecure to admit her own feelings? Would a night with Faith make him forget about Buffy even for an instant? He knew the answer. It was always the same.

Spike pulled back and took a few, purposeful steps away, never breaking eye contact with Faith. "Don't you get it? There is no consolation. No comfort. No solace. Just the hard, cold reality of this." He threw his hands outward, indicating the basement. "Just me, living beneath her. Always beneath her."

"Damn she's trained you well. Do you actually believe that crap?"

"I know what I am."

"Right, you're a vampire. And I'd say, for a vampire? You're doing pretty damn good. Saving the world and fighting with the good guys. You don't need her. Or any of the lines she's been feeding you. She's strung you along long enough. Just let it go."

Spike pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth and stared at her in frustration. "Look, I realize, that someone, somewhere, must have declared this "Give Advice to Spike Night," but I really don't want to hear it. Had enough, pet. Thanks." He turned from her. "And please, lock the door on your way out."

"Fine. If that's the way you want it. But," she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, "if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Maybe you're not up for a little sport, but, hey, who knows? Maybe Xander is. Or maybe that freaky gay kid. What do you think? Think I could bring him over to the other side?"

"I'm sure if anyone could, it would be you. Goodnight, Faith."

"Night Spike." She ran up the stairs two at a time. She forgot to lock the door.


	6. The Kiss

Chapter Six: The Kiss

About an hour later, the basement door opened, and Gunn yelled down the stairs, "Hey, vampire. You down there?"

"Bloody . . . hell," Spike cursed to himself. He put down the half-empty bottle in his hand - the one Faith had left - and stared up toward the voice. "Yes?" he hollered.

Gunn descended a few steps and then leaned down to see Spike, who was sitting on the cot, his back up against the wall. "Buffy wants you. Final plans and all. She told me not to take no for an answer."

"Or what? She'll stick the Scoobies on me? Or better yet, maybe she'll send someone else down to talk me to death."

"Okayyy," Gunn said slowly. "Just, when you're ready? Buffy wants you." Gunn moved up the stairs, leaving the door open behind him. 

"Right, Buffy wants me," Spike said, pushing himself off the cot. "Never happen."

Spike crossed the floor and mounted the stairs. As soon as he reached the main level he was instantly assaulted by a stale rush of warm air, and the sound of twenty voices talking at once. The whole tribe was spread throughout the house, but the air was still buzzing with noise and energy, and it was quite disorienting, after the relative quiet of the basement.

Spike pushed his way passed Andrew and Dawn who were arguing in the kitchen, and made his way to the dining room. He didn't think anyone noticed him enter.

Buffy noticed. 

Buffy's skin suddenly felt tingly, and she looked up to see Spike entering the room. She tried to smile at him, reassuringly, but he wouldn't look at her. He took up his previous place against the wall, and just stared straight ahead.

A moment later, Faith joined the group. She sauntered in and perched herself on the edge of a side table, several inches from Spike. Buffy noticed the sly smile on Faith's lips. One she had obviously meant only for Spike. 

Buffy could feel a hard knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Seeing them together, she finally realized that she hadn't seen either one of them in hours. What the hell had they been doing? 

"Well, good," Wesley said, when Faith finally got settled, "Faith is here. Spike," he nodded at the vampire. "Now we can finalize the battle plan."

Buffy took a deep, steadying breath. She could feel Angel at her side, his hand resting on her elbow, for support. It wasn't helping. She felt like the floor was going to cave in. "All right," she began, "this is the plan."

***

Several hours later, the strategizing in the dining room, finally came to an end. 

"I think that's the best we can do," Buffy said, standing up from the table wearily. "We don't have much time left. If we don't get some sleep now, we'll never be up to strength to go into battle tomorrow. This is it." 

Buffy watched as the would-be Slayers crowded their way into the doorway between the living room and the dining room. She turned to address them. "I know you're tired. And I know you're scared. We have a battle before us tomorrow. One we may very well lose. But we have to try. We have to fight. If we don't, we die. Now," she moved around the tabled and stepped closer to them, "you know that not all of us are going to make it. This may be our last night on this earth, so do whatever it is you have to do, before that happens. Call your families. Let them know that you love them. This is it. No regrets." 

Buffy heard a door close somewhere behind her. The basement door. Spike had left, she could sense it. She wanted to turn around, but couldn't. 

"Maybe, if we're lucky, some of us will actually come out of this in one piece." Buffy turned her back toward them in dismissal. "Goodnight."

She heard the collective sound of a dozen or so girls mumbling "Goodnight." Then, they shuffled back into the living room and began chattering amongst themselves. 

"That goes for us too," Buffy said, addressing the leadership of her little army. "Whatever you have to do, do it tonight." She looked up at Angel. "There may not be a tomorrow."

Buffy made her exit as quickly as possible. She didn't want to be around them, any of them. They would die - probably most of them. What comfort could she give? What good was being their fearless leader, if she couldn't offer them any real hope, just bitter consolation the night before their gruesome deaths? Oh God, how were they ever going to get though this?

Buffy was pacing nervously again, when she heard a knock at her door. The door opened before she could reach it.

"Can I come in?" Angel stuck his head inside the room and looked at Buffy.

"Yeah, sure." She sighed. 

Buffy slumped down onto the corner of her bed and stared up at him, as he closed the door and crossed into the room.

"Do you mind if I . . .?" he asked, gesturing toward the bed.

"No. Sure. Go ahead," Buffy said flatly, her eyes staring listlessly ahead.

He sat on the opposite corner. "This is nice," he said, nodding his head. "Not bad at all."

Buffy turned a little and looked at him. "What do you want?" Her tone was anything but playful.

Angel sobered up. "To talk. Buffy, do you trust me?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course." She shook her head in slight wonderment at his question. "I wouldn't have asked you to help me save the world if I didn't."

"Then why didn't you tell me about Spike?"

Buffy's blood froze in her veins. "Spike?" her voice squeaked a little.

"Why didn't you tell me he had gotten his soul back? Isn't that the kind of thing I need to know?"

Buffy searched her brain for some answer. He didn't know about her and Spike? Oh thank God. What was she going to tell him? "I honestly wasn't even thinking about it."

"What?"

"Well, you know, it may be news to you, but it isn't news to us. This isn't just a recent development. He's had the soul for months now. Since he came back from Africa."

"And what was he doing in Africa?" Angel's voice was hard.

"That's where it happened. Where he got the soul back. Angel," she shifted toward him a little more, "it isn't important. Not now. Spike has a soul, which makes him a valuable ally. He's a good fighter, and that's all that's really important right now."

"Fine. I won't argue with you, if you're so damned determined. But," he said with emphasis, "if we do live through this, don't expect me not to give you hell for it, when it's all over."

"Well, if you don't mind standing in line, you're welcome to it."

"Buffy, there's something I have to tell you." His tone changed slightly. Suddenly he became even more broody and serious.

"I already know," she said, getting up from the bed and taking a few agitated steps away. 

"No. I don't think that you do."

"Connor is your son." She turned around to face him. "I know. I found out this morning."

Angel stared at her for a long moment. "That's not it." He got up from the bed and came to stand in front of her, their bodies separated by mere inches. "There's something else Buffy."

"Something bigger than Connor being your son?"

"Yes."

Buffy could feel her muscles tensing. What could be bigger than Angel having a son? "Well," she pulled away from him, "maybe I don't want to know."

"You have to." He followed her. "If the world does end tomorrow, you have to know this."

"Why?" She turned around to meet his gaze. "Why is it important that I know? Don't you think I have enough of the weight of the world on my shoulders for right now?"

"Buffy," he grabbed her by the arms to keep her in front of him, "the curse. It's gone."

"What?" Buffy tried to pull away, but he held her firm. "No. That's not possible."

"Buffy, look at me." He shook her slightly to get her attention. "It is. It's a long story, but essentially, the gang had to remove my soul, so we could get some information out of Angelus. Releasing my soul, released the curse. Now, I'm free. Buffy, I'm free."

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes filled with disbelief. Was it true? How could it be true? "How can you be sure?"

"The monk who restored my soul told me. He's one of the good guys Buffy, he wouldn't lie. And Cordelia . . . well," he broke her gaze, "Cordelia can see things. She knows. She told me herself."

Angel loosened his grip and Buffy was able to slip away. Her mind was whirling with unexplored possibilities. "So you . . .?"

"Yes, Buffy, yes. I can be with you." He took a step closer to her. "Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Buffy stared up into his eyes, lost in the depths of his dark orbs. Was it? She couldn't remember. What did she want? Her head was spinning. She was exhausted. Restless. Her mind hungry for any kind of relief. Finally, a single word escaped her lips, "Yes."

"Buffy," he whispered her name, as he drew her closer and brought his lips down to hers.

Buffy nearly fainted at the sensation. Angel was kissing her. Oh God, she had thought she'd never feel that again. How many times had she dreamed about being with him again? It felt so wonderful to be in his safe, strong arms. It was so comforting. Reassuring. There was nothing complicated about it. It was just nice, and soothing, and . . . terribly wrong.

Buffy instantly broke the kiss and tore herself away from Angel.

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuine surprise apparent on his face. 

"I . . ." What was wrong? What could she say? That it really was nice kissing him, but that he just didn't do anything for her anymore? That he was safe, but she didn't want safe? That she wanted something else. She stared back at him, at a loss.

"Buffy, I thought this was what you wanted? That speech you gave, about having no regrets? I thought . . ." Angel paused, lost for a moment in thought. "Is there someone else?"  


Buffy took in a strong, slow breath and faced him squarely. "Yes," she said, without apology.

"Then why did you come up here? Why did you let me in?"

"Because it's easier."

"What's easier?"

"You." She turned away from him. "I know what I said downstairs, but . . ."

"Buffy. If there's someplace you need to be, you should go. I won't stop you. I love you Buffy, you know that. I always will. But if there's someone you'd rather spend tonight with than me, I have no right to hold you back."

"You're not." She moved to face him again. "I am. Angel, so much has changed. Everything has changed. I'm not the girl you knew. I've grown up. Things are different now. You have no idea what I've been through. The torment I've suffered. The little day to day things that have been so impossible for me the past couple of years. I've barely survived it. Sometimes, when I look back, I realize that just one thing got me through. One . . . person."

"Then you should go to him."

She shook her head. "I can't. It's not right. Not with the girls here, and everything."

"The girls?"

"Yeah."

"He's here?" Angel stared at her quizzically. "Somewhere in the house?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him and bit her lower lip in confirmation.

"Tell me it's not Xander."

"No, it's not Xander." She sighed.

"Giles?" he asked, his voice slightly apprehensive.

"No. It's not Giles, or Andrew, or Wesley, or Gunn, or Lorne, _or_ Connor" she rambled, naming every male in the house save one.

"Or Spike?" Angel asked, his tone suddenly icy.

Buffy looked away, confirming Angel's worst fear.

"No. I won't believe it."

"It's the truth. It's time that you knew."

"No. This, I don't want to know." He turned and headed toward the door. 

"I love him Angel." The words just came out, even surprising Buffy. She had never admitted it out loud before, not really. She loved Spike. Loved him in a way that went beyond her feelings for Angel. It was time the truth finally came out. 

Her words stopped him cold. Angel swung around and glared at Buffy. "You don't know what you mean."

"Yes I do." She fought back, coming forward and stopping just inches in front of him. "I love him. I don't expect you to understand it, or accept it, but it's the way I feel. It's the truth. Do you think I like it? Do you think it's easy for me, wanting him? Loving him? It's hard, and it's complicated, but it's my life Angel. For better or for worse, even if the world ends tomorrow, Spike is my life. I'm sorry."

"So what? You've done this before? You and he . . .?"

"Not in a very long time."

"Buffy!"

"Angel, I'm sorry."

"I don't believe this." He pulled away and began walking circles on the floor. "You and Spike? You love Spike? You want Spike over me?"

"Egotistical, much?"

"That's not what I meant." He stopped to stare at her. "Buffy, what if the world doesn't end tomorrow? What if you both survive this?"

"Then I cross that bridge when I come to it. I have to see him tonight." She moved toward the door.

"Buffy." Angel reached out and stopped her. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? If I had had any idea that it was Spike you were talking about I would never have--"

"I know. I have to tell him Angel. I have to. He deserves to know."

"You never even told him?" He searched her eyes disbelievingly.

"No. But I have to. Tonight." 


	7. Confrontations

Chapter Seven: Confrontations

A few minutes later, Angel found himself on the back porch of the Summers home, standing against the railing, staring out into the blackness of the night. Their last night on earth, and Buffy was off declaring her undying love to the evil undead? Angel secretly wondered if the Apocalypse hadn't already happened. Maybe this was hell, and they were all just too stupid to realize it. 

Suddenly, Angel felt a presence behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He stayed perfectly still and silent, as Cordelia moved up to stand beside him.

"She's with him, isn't she?"

"How did you know?" Angel turned to her, pain and accusation marring his face.

She met his gaze directly. "It's obvious. Anyone can see it. You just have to look at them."

Angel let out a low, feral growl as he turned away from her. "Well I didn't see it."

"You didn't want to see it. They've been through a lot together. From what Willow told me, it's a lot more than you can imagine. That does something to people Angel. When you fight beside someone, everyday - never knowing if each new battle is going to be your last - it forges a bond. Something deep and unbreakable. You know that. We've all fought together long enough to understand that. They have a connection. They've fought, side by side--"

"I don't want to hear it," he cut her off, brusquely.

"Fine." She moved closer to him, her stance determined. "But if you think that's going to make it any easier, you're wrong. You can't just deny the truth and pretend that nothing's happened. You've already done that with us. It's time you stopped running, and faced up to your fears."

"My fears?" He glared at her. "I don't have fears. I'm a vampire. I instill terror in others, not the other way around."

"Ha!"

"What did you say?" he asked, in slight disbelief.

"I said 'Ha!' You are afraid Angel. You're afraid of life. You get your curse lifted and the first thing you do is go sniffing after Buffy? Oh please, that is so over. It was so over years ago. The only reason you tried cuddling up to Buffy was because it was safe. A pretty little fairy tale. Well life isn't a fairy tale, Angel. Life is real. It's painful, and it's hard, and uncompromising. But it's real. And a hell of a lot more powerful than any stupid, schoolboy fantasy. Get over it Angel. You're just running. It's time you faced the truth." 

Angel stared at her for a long, hard moment. The anger inside of him was threatening to break through the surface and rend the thinly veiled façade he had worked so hard to keep intact. She was wrong. He wasn't running. He wasn't scared of anything. "_You're_ wrong," he said dangerously.

"No I'm not. If we do, in fact, die tomorrow, what are you saving yourself from? What pain or heartache are you avoiding by not trusting me?" She moved in closer, so that they were standing just inches apart. Titling her head back slightly, she stared up into his eyes. "What's going to happen if you face your fears Angel?" she asked softly.

Angel could feel the heat radiating from her body. She was so close. He felt his chest constrict, the muscles tightening all through his body. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he couldn't. What a damn fool he was.

He took a step back, never breaking her gaze. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

"That's a start." She took a step closer, but he held up his hands to hold her off.

"No. You don't understand. What I did tonight - what I tried to do," he corrected, "was wrong. It was an act of cowardice, but that doesn't make it all right. I had every intention of . . ." he looked away for a moment, "being with Buffy. There's nothing I can do to make it right."

Cordelia closed the distance between them, and brought her hand up to caress his face. "Is that what you really think? Tell me Angel, are all vampire's as dense as you?"

"I don't know. I'd imagine Spike's pretty high up there. I mean, he never did have the smallest shred of common sense. It's a miracle he's lasted this long. Maybe, more like a curse."

"I don't want to talk about Spike."

"Okay," he said nervously, "no complaints here."

"Kiss me Angel."

"What?"

"Kiss me."

Angel could feel his body weakening as she pressed against him. He stared into her eyes again, one last time, memorizing the look of love and desire he saw there. Slowly, he closed his eyes and leaned forward. He heard Cordy sigh as she leaned in and closed the distance. Their lips met, and Angel realized, just what this night was really meant for.

***

Buffy sighed in frustration as she tried to make her way past Anya and Andrew. They were arguing in the bathroom and had waylaid Buffy to play intermediary. All she really wanted was to get to Spike, but first she had to escape the evil clutches of the nerd and the ex-demon. 

"Look you little cretin, you can't stay in here all night. The world is going to end tomorrow and some of us have to pee. So get out." Anya tried to push him through the open door.

'Hey," Andrew protested. "Buffy, tell her to stop it. She always has to pee. It's not my fault she has a bladder problem."

"Look," Buffy said, sternly. "Are you two finished?"

"I would be if Andrew would just leave."

"But I need to . . ."

Buffy grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him out into the hallway. Anya closed the door behind them. "If you know what's good for you," Buffy said, letting go of him, "you'll stop arguing with the vengeance demon."

"_Ex_-vengeance demon," he corrected.

"Right. You remind her of that when she's making party streamers out of your viscera." She smiled at him. "Goodnight, Andrew." 

Buffy fled before he could say another word. She was getting anxious, and she desperately wanted to see Spike.

Quickly, she made her way downstairs, her heart racing, the blood thrumming through her veins. She needed to see Spike, needed to tell him. 

Buffy was halfway down the steps when Faith came bounding around the corner, and started up the stairs herself. The two Slayers almost collided.

"Hey?" Faith said, stepping back a couple of steps, and grabbing onto the railing, her body completely blocking Buffy's path. "I thought you were going to bed? Big battle and all?"

"Yes," Buffy said coldly, "but there's something I have to do before bed."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Faith said, as she pushed passed her. "Hey?" She turned around, staring down at Buffy. "Didn't you just leave Angel? Wow B, I have to give you credit. I really didn't think you had it in you. Two in one night."

Buffy inhaled a much-needed breath, and prayed that her nerves would sustain her. There was something she had to know. "What . . . exactly . . . happened between you and Spike tonight?"

Faith smiled devilishly. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" She turned to continue up the stairs. 

Buffy moved up and grabbed Faith by the forearm, stopping her. "Yes . . . I would," she said, her voice hard.

"Okay," Faith said defensively, pulling her arm out of Buffy's grip. "You want to know? We had a little talk, Spike and I."

"A little talk about what?"

"Oh, you know? This, that, life, death . . . sex. The whole shebang."

Buffy could feel her muscles beginning to tighten. She seriously wanted to punch Faith. "And?"

"And? The world's ending tomorrow, and neither of us had anybody to spend this last night with, so," Faith shrugged, "we . . . connected."

Buffy's eyes narrowed and she glared at Faith. "You . . ." Buffy caught her breath. She couldn't even say it. "You had sex with Spike?"

Faith laughed. "Oh, that's a good one. You worried B?" She moved down closer, her face inches from Buffy's. "Afraid I tamed your little pet vampire?"

"Yes, or no?"

Faith smiled again. "I offered. Offered to make him forget all about you. After all, we both thought you'd be upstairs doing Angel all night. I guess we were wrong. Or were we?"

"What did he do?"

"What do you think he did?" Faith snapped, her tone turning harsh. "He decided to hold out for Buffy. Dear, precious Buffy. You've trained him real well B. I have to give you credit. Although, if I ever had a vampire like Spike, the last thing I'd want him to be is housebroken."

Faith turned around and walked up the rest of the stairs. "Sweet dreams, sister Slayer," she said, looking back over her shoulder. "Enjoy your last night on earth."


	8. In the Basement

Chapter Eight: In the Basement

Spike was lying on the cot in the basement, staring up at the ceiling. He was supposed to be trying to sleep, but he couldn't. And it had nothing to do with being a creature of the night. 

Damn that magnificent poof! Damn Buffy too! Who the bloody hell did they think they were anyway? Dwight D. Eisenhower and Douglas McArthur, leading their little troops off to victory? He hated seeing them together. The way they worked, the way they came together like they had never been apart. And that wanker had been staring at him all day. All day and all night, until Spike had just wanted to pop his bleedin' caveman head, right off his bleedin' caveman body. What did she see in him? The big nancy-boy ponce!

Spike didn't want to think about what they were doing right now. He had heard Buffy's little speech about "no regrets," and telling people that you love them. No doubt, she was upstairs in her room right now, showing dear old Peaches just how much she loved _him_. Spike wanted to throw something. Get up and punch a hole in the wall. Something! But he couldn't. There was going to be a fight tomorrow, a fight to save the world. Whatever was going on upstairs, he still had to save Buffy. He couldn't desert her now, no matter what it was she had chosen to do with her last night on earth.

Spike closed his eyes and listened to the sounds filtering through the basement floor. Most of the ruckus had died down, but he could still make out the distinct sound of small, bare feet pattering across the floor every once in a while. The girls' light murmurings also invaded his ears. They were afraid. He could hear it in the tones of their voices. They were all trying to put up a good front for Buffy, but he could tell they were terrified.

Footsteps. 

He heard footsteps, moving across the kitchen and stopping at the basement door. The door opened and someone stepped inside. He didn't even bother to open his eyes. It was probably one of the little bints, coming down for a forgotten piece of laundry or something. Maybe one of them had left a stake on the training room floor.

The door closed, and Spike heard the unmistakable sound of the door being locked. His eyes shot open and he sat up on the cot. "Who's there?"

He saw someone moving down the stairs. A cold shock surged through his body when he realized who it was. 

"I thought you'd know my footsteps by now." Buffy descended the last step and came to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly expecting you." Spike got up and looked around for something to do. He couldn't just stand there and talk to her. He needed to be doing something. Instinctively, he reached for his duster, which was strewn over a box in the corner. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He turned to look at her, resting his hip against the box. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Want to tell me all about Angel and his shiny, new, uncursed soul?" he said, sarcastically.

"You know?"

"'Course I know." He took a drag of the cigarette and threw it to the ground in frustration. "I admit, you guys weren't really up there that long. Is the old sire losing his touch? Well . . . come on . . . really. He never actually was that good to begin with."

"You speaking from personal experience?" She raised a cynical brow in question.

"Bloody hell, no!" Spike nearly popped a blood vessel. "I was talking about Dru! Always did come back to me in the end."

Buffy just stared at him. "Are you finished?"

"You know what?" He moved up closer to her. "No. I'm not. You want to spend the last night of your life shagging that nancy-boy poof? That's fine. But you have an army to run. You're getting too caught up in your own little personal problems, all of a sudden. You won't make an effective leader if you don't stop it right now. Think Buffy! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

She shook her head at him in obvious frustration. "I have as much right as any of those girls up there, to spend this night however I see fit." She began moving toward him, with determination. 

Spike backed away with each step. 

"You think that makes me an ineffective leader? Maybe it does. But I've saved the world enough times, to spend this night how I want." She backed him up against the wall. "To seize the moment and do what I have to do."

Buffy stared up at him, her eyes suddenly softening. He felt like he was drowning in the hazy warmth of her eyes. "Buffy . . ."

"Spike." She placed her hand tenderly against his chest.

A pang of jealousy instantly swept through him. He knew she had been with Angel. Hadn't she? What was she doing, coming down here and cozying up to him? What was he getting, the consolation prize? Why had she bothered to come and see him at all? 

"What do you want from me, Slayer?" His voice hardened. "What is this? Suddenly you're the bloody USO, come to rally the troops? Well, you shouldn't have bothered." He knocked her hand from his chest and stepped away. "I'm not a soldier in your army. I'm fighting for myself. Not for you." He lied. "So don't bother telling me that you care. Go back to your precious golden boy and leave me alone."

Spike seethed silently, his back turned to her. Why had she come to see him? To make it up to him? To sooth his wounded ego? Well, he didn't need her sympathy. Or her pity. He'd fight beside her when the time came, no matter who she was shagging. It didn't matter to him. He just wished she'd leave him alone and let him grieve in peace, while he still had the luxury.

He felt Buffy move up behind him. He steeled himself as she advanced. 

"I kissed Angel," she said, matter-of-factly.

Spike felt like someone had just driven a stake through his unbeating heart. Instinctively, his hand came up to clutch at his chest. Other than that, he couldn't move.

"I kissed him." She took a single step closer.

"I heard you the first time, luv."

"But that's all." 

Spike spun around and stared at her, his eyes searching hers feverishly. "But the curse, it's been removed."

"I know."

"Then why . . .? Buffy, why?" He didn't understand. Suddenly his anger melted away, replaced by a heady feeling of confusion.

In an instant, she closed the distance between them and came to stand just a hairsbreadth away from him. "Because, I don't love him."

"But," he tried to find the words, "it's what you wanted. What you've always wanted. The only reason Angel left was because--"

"I know."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." She moved closer so that they were now touching, her body molding intimately to his.

Spike's eyes widened for the briefest second, as he realized just exactly what it was she intended to do. "Wait," he pulled away from her again, needing to escape the confusion that her nearness was causing him. "Buffy, why? Why me? Why not Angel? Cordelia says he's more than willing."

"He was."

"Then why me?"

"Because . . . I love you."

Suddenly Spike felt like the entire Hellmouth had opened up and swallowed him whole. "What did you just say?"

"I said that I love you Spike. You. Spike. I love you." She moved forward and stopped a comfortable distance away from him.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes. I do. Spike, I had to tell you. If the world does end tomorrow, you had to know. It wasn't fair of me to keep it from you any longer. I'm sorry I waited this long."

Spike could feel the borrowed blood humming through his veins. He felt lightheaded, and slightly disoriented. "You mean this?"

"I do. Spike." She came up to him and placed both of her hands firmly on his chest. "I love you. And if this is our last night on earth together, I want to spend it with you."

Spike looked down at her, searching her eyes for any hint of delusion or deception. He found none. She meant it. She wanted him. Oh God, she loved him! 

An involuntary shudder coursed through his chest as he realized just how lucky he was. How happy he was. If he did die tomorrow, he would die the happiest man on earth. It didn't matter what tomorrow would bring. Tonight, they would have each other.

Trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to overtake him, he closed his eyes and leaned closer, kissing her tenderly. Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike's neck and pulled herself closer to him, their bodies molding together. 

Oh God it had been so long! Too long. 

Without even thinking, Spike picked her up and carried her over to the small cot. It wasn't the exact setting that he had imagined when he had fantasized about making love to her again. But it would have to do. They couldn't go upstairs. That would really traumatize the little girls, not to mention Angel. No, the basement would have to do. After all, it wasn't the worst place they had ever been together. At least the cot was soft, and there was a pillow and a blanket.

Spike lowered Buffy down gently. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, their gazes locked heatedly. He moved to pull away, but she protested. 

Spike smiled. "Give us a second, luv." He moved a few inches from the cot, still clearly in her line of view, and began removing his clothes. He could feel Buffy's eyes wandering over his body. He grew hard at the sensation. 

When he was finished, he turned and moved toward Buffy. She was laid out on the cot, staring up at him. He knelt down beside her on the floor, and she pushed herself up to a sitting position to look at him.

Slowly, he ran his hands along the hem of her tank top and gently pulled it over her head, revealing the creamy expanse of her breasts. Their eyes never breaking contact, she laid back on the bed and Spike moved his hands to the waistband of her pajama bottoms. It didn't take him long to remove the offending garment, and the little lace panties beneath. Soon Buffy was lying before him naked, her magnificence exposed for his eyes alone.

Spike drew in a sharp, shuddering breath as his eyes scanned her body. It had been so long since he had seen her like this. He wanted her so desperately. And thankfully, she wanted him.

Raising his eyes to hers, once again, he slowly raised himself from the floor and slid onto the cot beside her. The little bed was too small by half, but it was all they had. 

He rested his hand on her knee, and gently slid it upward to rest on her thigh. "Buffy," he whispered, unable to help himself.

"Spike, I want you." She reached up, cupping her hand around the back of his head. She pulled him closer, their lips barely touching. 

He could feel her warm breath flickering across his lips. It sent shivers down his spine. 

"Make love to me. Please."

That simple word, "Please." It was his undoing. 

Spike closed the distance between them, capturing her mouth with his own, claiming her as his own. Buffy moaned and wriggled up against him, wrapping her leg about his waist and drawing him closer. Spike ran his hand up her side and lovingly caressed her breast. 

He wanted this to last forever. But he knew it couldn't. This might be their last night together, and he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to savor every, single moment, as if it were his last.

He concentrated on her mouth, for what seemed like hours, their hands roaming each other's bodies. Exploring. Trying to recapture long-ago memories.

Finally, he broke away, and began exploring with his mouth. He trailed sweet kisses down her neck, then across her collarbone. He stopped at each of her breasts - teasing her nipples, suckling, doing whatever he could to bring her pleasure. His mouth roamed lower, covering nearly every inch of her flesh, until she was trembling beneath him. 

"Spike please," she whimpered.

Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the tantalizing taste of her flesh, and laid himself flush against her. He looked down into her cloudy, hazel eyes, and caught his breath. "You know I love you, don't you?" he asked, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you Buffy. Oh God, how I love you."

She smiled at him, a small tremulous smile, and then pulled him closer. "I know. Please, Spike, now." Her mewling cry was pleading and desperate.

Spike parted her thighs and positioned himself between them. Buffy leaned her head back, closing her eyes, and exposing a sinful view of her throat. The pulse there called to the monster inside of him, but he could never ask her for a taste. He was beyond that. He was a man now. Not a monster. Buffy wouldn't be with him if he was. He had to resist the temptation.

Spike entered her slowly, savoring every second of the sweet friction between them. He heard Buffy moan as he slid deep inside of her, filling her as completely as he could. She began to move against him, urging him to thrust into her. 

He couldn't tear his eyes from her face. He watched in awe as she gasped with each thrust, her body moving in perfect cadence with his own. 

This wasn't like the other times; that first time in the abandoned building, that time in the alley behind the Double Meat Palace. This was so different. 

Of course they couldn't make a lot of noise because of all the unwanted company upstairs, but it was more than that. For once, they weren't trying to hurt each other, weren't trying to prove who was stronger or who was in control. They were together because they wanted each other, simply because they wanted and loved each other. For the first time, their lovemaking actually was lovemaking. It was sweet and pure, and real. Driven by genuine affection. And acceptance. 

Spike wanted to cry from the joy of it all, damn ponce that he was. Always was a sissy, nancy-boy. He didn't care though. He was with Buffy. She knew what he was. Had always known. And she didn't care. Man or demon, poet or monster, she loved him. And he liked to think she always had.

Spike could feel her tensing around him. She was close. He tried to prolong the moment for as long as he could, giving just enough to keep her from going over the edge. She was panting now, writhing beneath him, begging him with her body for release.

"Spike." She opened her eyes and stared up at him, her eyes two dark, endless pools of unfulfilled desire. "Spike," she put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down to her. She held him there, their mouths just inches apart, for what seemed like an eternity, staring into his eyes. She inched herself forward to kiss him gently on the lips, then she pulled his head farther down her body, resting his face against the side of her neck. 

Spike could have sworn he felt his heart flutter. What the bleedin' hell did she think she was doing? "Buffy." He tried to pull away from her, but she wouldn't let him.

"Please, Spike. It's all right. Just now. Do it now. Oh God, please!"

That was all the coaxing he needed. He was already on the brink himself. He was too far gone to resist the temptation any longer.

He kissed her neck once, sweetly. And then, without another thought, Spike shifted into gameface. He tried to catch his breath. Why did he even need to breath? God, the things Buffy did to him.

He pulled back a few precious inches, and got ready to strike. He didn't even need to be biting her. He could already feel his body getting ready to spasm. Just the promise of penetrating her tender flesh was driving him over the edge. 

Before it was too late, he let out a small, animal roar, and sunk his fangs deep into Buffy's neck. She screamed out, as he tore her flesh, and Spike was afraid that he had really hurt her. He tried to pull back, but she wouldn't let him. 

She was moving against him again, and he could feel her inner walls pulsating against his hard shaft. She was climaxing around him, and it was too much for him to bear.

His mouth filled with the warm rush of Buffy's blood, Spike thrust inside her one last time. Instantly he crashed over the edge, spilling himself inside her. Oh God, there was nothing like it! The warm taste of Buffy's blood in his mouth, the feel of her hot flesh trembling around him, the scent of her body sweet and aroused. He loved all of it. Every last inch of her. And everything she had done for him.

Slowly, trying not to hurt her, Spike withdrew his fangs from her neck and his face shifted effortlessly to its human form. He kissed her wounds tenderly, licking the stray drops of blood away with his tongue. Buffy cooed unconsciously, as his mouth cooled her warm flesh. 

Finally, Spike turned his head and rested it against her neck. For a long moment they just lay there, perfectly still. Buffy was still breathing heavy, but other than that, she didn't try to move. Spike could have stayed with her like that for the rest of eternity, however long that was. 

Finally, he knew he had to pull away.

Relinquishing the warmth of her cradling limbs, he lay down beside her, and pulled her close, spooning her against him. He looked down at the unmarked side of her neck and placed a small kiss there. "Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. "Why did you do it luv?"

"Because," Buffy said, "it's what you deserve." She ran her hand along the arm that was holding her, and covered his hand with her own. "I love you Spike. And I trust you. I know what you are. And no matter what happens, I had to show you that I love all of you. The man and the demon. You had to know. I didn't want you to deny who you are. It wouldn't have been fair."

"Who cares about fair, pet? I could have hurt you."

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. "No you couldn't have. You could never hurt me. I know that now. I love you Spike. I'm just sorry that I didn't tell you sooner."

"Water under the bridge," he scoffed.

"I wish it were just that." She turned back around and settled down into his arms.

"Buffy?" 

"Yeah?"

"Did you want me to bite you?"

He heard her laugh to herself and felt, more than saw, her smile. "Yes Spike, I did. I know, I know . . . not really a smart move for a Slayer. But hey? The world could end tomorrow," she said offhandedly.

"That's not funny," he admonished.

"No, it's not. But the point is, I wanted it Spike. I wanted to know what it would feel like. With you."

"And now that you know?" He raked his blunt, human teeth over the flesh of her bare neck.

She shivered against him. "I want to feel it again," she whispered, the surprise in her voice, even apparent to his ears.

"Well, that can be arranged luv. After all, we do have all night." He brought his mouth down against her neck, and kissed her again.


	9. The Morning After

Chapter Nine: The Morning After

Early the next morning, Buffy woke to the unwelcome sound of footsteps parading across the living room floor. Grudgingly, she opened her eyes and glared up at the ceiling. "Darn Potentials," she grumbled under her breath. 

"What was that pet?" Spike's arm tightened about her waist, and he placed a chaste kiss against her temple.

"Nothing. Just wishing I were still sleeping the sleep of the undead." She turned around to look at him, lying on her back as he hovered beside her.

"Well," he said, fingering the hem of the bedsheet that only barely covered her, "in case you hadn't noticed, the undead are not getting any sleep either. Soddin' wannabe Slayers," he growled. "I'll bet the poof made them do it on purpose. Sent them right to that spot," he pointed just above them, "and instructed them to stomp with all their would-be might."

Buffy giggled as she listened to Spike getting all self-righteous about Angel and the Potentials.

He looked back down at her. "Did you just giggle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The Slayer doesn't giggle. What are you? Some hormonal, teenage girl, all crazy over some boy band?"

He was making fun of her. Buffy kind of liked it. "Not quite," she said, as she pulled him closer, for a kiss.

"Right. Nothing silly about that," he said when she let him go. "Hormonal? Yes. But definitely nothing silly."

"Spike," her voice was soft, all hint of playfulness gone.

"I know. It's morning. It's time to go save the world."

"If we're lucky."

"I love you Buffy Anne Summers. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you still do love me? I mean, even after last night?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stared up at him. "I will always love you. No matter what."

Spike looked down at her, regret and resignation reflected in his eyes. He pulled away from her, sliding off the cot and moving to retrieve his clothes from where he had left them on the floor the night before.

Buffy watched him. She couldn't help herself. This might be their last moment alone together, the last time she ever got to see him intimately. It was something she didn't want to give up, but she knew she had no choice.

Spike turned to look at her. "Aren't you going to get dressed luv?"

"Yeah, sure." Buffy threw off the covers, and put her bare feet on the cold, cement floor. A shock instantly shot up her spine, as her warm feet made contact with the cold stone. Well, apparently the dream was over. It was time to step back into reality.

Buffy found her clothes quickly, and went about getting dressed herself. As she pulled her rumpled tank top over her head, she noticed Spike staring at her. "What are you doing?" she asked, as she pulled the shirt firmly down over the top of her pajama bottoms.

"Emblazoning your image on my brain for all eternity. Even if I'm the one who dies today, at least I'll be able to take it with me."

"Spike." She came up to him and placed warm, trembling hands on either side of his face. "Whatever happens, we'll be together. We'll always be together."

He cupped one of her hands with his own, and brought it down so he could place a kiss against her palm. "I know luv. I know. But now," he took both of her hands in his, and squeezed them gently, "we go up there, and we fight the good fight. Give 'em hell!"

"That's what they want," she smiled slightly.

"Then we'll give 'em heaven. The First won't know what hit 'im. You'll see. You ready?" he looked at her with earnest, blue eyes.

"I'm ready."

Spike let go of her left hand, and pulled her closer with the right. He led her to the bottom of the stairs and stopped. "You know, once we go up there, luv, this has to end."

"I know." Buffy knew that once they reached the top of those stairs, and unlocked the basement door, all hell would break loose. There was a battle waiting up there for them. There would be no stolen kisses, no long last looks. There would be horror and bloodshed, and things a thousand times worse. This might very well be their last moment alone together. Ever. Buffy didn't want it to end.

Spike squeezed her hand again and gave her a small, reassuring smile as he turned to move up the stairs. But her voice stopped him.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

Without saying a word, Buffy pulled him to her and kissed him passionately, as if it were the last kiss of her life. Finally, trembling and breathless, she pulled away and stared up at him, her eyes brimming with emotion. "I love you Spike. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that, before we go."

"I know luv. I know." He leaned forward and kissed her one last time. "I love you too. With all my heart and all my soul." 

With deep resignation, Buffy pulled out of his embrace and took his hand in her own. They looked at each other one last time before heading up the stairs together. They were walking into the unknown. Neither one of them knew what tomorrow would bring - or even if there would be a tomorrow. But they had done everything they could, everything they could to ensure the safety of the world, and to ensure their peace with each other. There would be no regrets. Now, only time and fate would tell how it would all end.

END


End file.
